


Return

by MirkwoodElf



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angry Drax, Character Development, Leave me alone i dont have a life, M/M, Possible Ronan/Peter, Post-Guardians of the Galaxy (2014), Someone stop me, honestly, i dont know where im going with this, lots of feels, lots of headcanons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-23 22:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4894897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirkwoodElf/pseuds/MirkwoodElf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[DISCONTINUED, UP FOR ADOPTION (?)]</p><p>The Guardians get a startling message: Ronan the Accuser is alive. Xandar is inviting them back to decide his fate. </p><p>Ronan, however, has other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unwelcome Transmissions

The volume of the crowd inside the bar rose and fell each minute, as if someone was constantly turning a knob on a radio. Aliens surrounding the tables on the far side placed their bets, rooting for either party which took part in the current match of strength. Arm wrestling was quite popular in this bar, not that Drax was complaining- he just kept stacking up units. Quill wasn't complaining either. 

Rocket sat next to Peter at the bar at the far left end near the wall, snickering as each contender ended up on the floor or crying due to their comrade's brutal strength. The colorful surrounding group of aliens cheered and let out a unified "OHHHHH!" As Drax's Krylorian opponent's arm nearly went through the table with an audible clap of skin meeting metal.

"HAHAHAHA! YES!" he boomed, the Krylorian hissing curses and rubbing his arm painfully, excusing himself to a peaceful seat at the bar. 

"Let's have another, shall we?" The Destroyer grinned, a larger, well-built male taking the seat opposite him. 

"This oughta be good!" Rocket snorted, drinking the last of the berry-like, sweet blue liquid from his shot glass. 

"Quill!" 

Peter's head flicked up at the sound of his name, to see Gamora marching across the bar towards him. She didn't look happy at all- damn. Another mission already? What now? Actually, as she got closer, he could see a bit of fear in her eyes. This couldn't be good at all, "What-?"

"We need to leave- now. Grab Drax. Meet me at the Milano, we need to have a discussion," she reported, biting her lip. 

"Already on it," Peter smiled. 

Rocket groaned, putting his glass on the counter, then joining Quill on their short walk to the table, squeezing between a few aliens. 

"Drax! Buddy! Close up shop, we gotta go!" Peter yelled over the crowd, waving an arm at his tattooed compatriot. 

"Ah, so ends our time," he announced as he finally slammed his opponent's arm down harshly, then stuffing his well earned units in his pocket as the crowd roared. Final score: 11-0. 

The walk back to the Milano was brisque, not only because this planet's current weather was rather chilly, but so they didn't further encourage the wrath of Gamora due to the mens' tardiness. Once inside his beloved ship, Quill removed his jacket and relished the toasty temperature inside, joining his friends at the ovular discussion table. Gamora held a template in her hands, reading it thoroughly once again it appeared. It was hard to read her expression, but she obviously was no where close to cheerful. 

"Alright, what's the deal?" Inquired Rocket, seating himself between Groot and Drax, "Out with it already."

Gamora shook her head in disbelief, taking a moment to soak in the last few sentences she read before she was interrupted, "I received a message from Rhomann Dey...it....doesn't make sense." 

"Rhomann Dey from Xandar? What reason does he have for contacting us?" Drax asked, blinking. He expected as little as the others did to have a message from Xandar again. 

"He says that upon further inspection of the Infinity Stone, something...happened, and now they have Ronan alive, in a maximum security prison cell."

Peter's mouth opened so fast if it wasn't part of his skull, it would have hit the floor and split in two, "Wait, what?"

"I still don't believe it-" Gamora started.

"I am Groot," commented Groot, furrowing his brow of tree bark. 

"I don't know how this is possible either- I'm wracking my brains right now!" Rocket scratched himself behind the ear.

"Well then let's go to Xandar and see for ourselves, and destroy him once and for all," Drax declared, clenching his fists against the table. 

"He said Nova Prime wanted to see us personally, and see if we had any thoughts on what to do with him," Gamora finished, eyes settling on Peter.

Peter finally shut his mouth and swallowed, brows furrowing. "Well then, let's get a move on..." He finished, standing and heading towards the cockpit.


	2. We Meet Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and the crew come face to face with evil once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments! It warms my heart. ;u; Here's chapter two. Enjoy ~

Xandar was as crowded as usual, but surprisingly more quiet. It was as if the citizens were trying to stay hidden from the danger that was ever present within their community involuntarily. Although Ronan was safely confined for now, the fear of knowing the devil was among them was still electrifying the air. 

As the Guardians walked into Nova headquarters, Rhomann Dey approached them, "Welcome back," he smiled in greeting, leading them through the base and up a few floors, "Nova Prime is in another meeting, but once we get to her office I will notify her and she will make her way to you."

Gamora thanked Dey, and Rocket began another conversation about legal boundaries with the poor man. 

Migrating from the mixed conversation to one of the large windows in the office,Peter couldn't help but think about how Xandar had changed so quickly from the last the Guardians had been there. They had rebuilt quite a bit, but there were still some patchy, toasted spots that Peter could see from the window where they waited for Nova Prime to receive them. He smiled as he watched the ant-sized people on the ground moving along with their day. It had only been a few months since the Kree invasion, and Xandar seemed to be doing alright as far as Peter could tell.  
Although some innocent blood had been spilled that day and the Kree had put a few extra zeroes on the bill for city repairs, Peter wondered what would really be the best solution for this situation. 

Sure, Ronan was a homicidal maniac. Maybe he deserved death? But there were in fact worse punishments than death- of course Ronan knew that. Drax would only be one of the hundreds utterly outraged if they kept Ronan alive-

"Hello, Guardians! How good to see you all again," came the voice of Nova Prime, dressed in her usual eye-catching royal blue uniform, "I hope that all has been well?" 

Peter turned and regrouped with his companions again, passing an amused Groot, who was currently running his hands through the holograms on the center table. Placing his hands on his hips with a smile he replied, "Nova Prime, good to see you too."

Gamora nodded, "Xandar looks nearly restored already." 

"We have still a ways to go, but all is well- it was well." 

"I know you did not call us to converse about the health of your empire." 

"Follow me," Nova sighed, "We have much to discuss." 

Through wrapping, bright corridors the Guardians followed Nova Prime, descending once more to the ground floor and then beneath, to a place most never imagined was under Nova Headquarters. It was naturally darker here, but still eternally lit by wall lamps. Snaking through the halls, the group eventually arrived at a large set of steel double doors, two guards standing outside. They saluted Nova Prime habitually, and opened the door at the nod of her head. 

The doors slid open, grinding loudly, a new wave of warmth washing over Peter as he stepped over the threshold. The room was round, a circular path surrounding the thick glass and steel containment unit in the center of the room where the prisoner was held.

There he was. 

Forced to kneel in the center of the round prison cell, head down, either too fatigued to care about their entrance, or unconscious, Peter couldn't tell. He no longer was cloaked in a protective war-lord's armor, but simple, black, tight clothing. His arms were claimed by two large metal chambers which engulfed nearly all of his forearm, which disabled him from harming others, let alone escape his cell.

"Damn, Nova, you've outdone yourself on this chamber," Rocket spoke, breaking the awkward silence.

Nova nodded in appreciation, "I would rather not take any chances."

Gamora stood with her lips parted next to Peter, unable to recall a time remotely similar to what she saw before her now. It must have been some hell trying to get him in there. Unconsciously, she placed her hand on the glass, peering inside, staring at her former master. She knew more of Ronan than anyone here. He was an enraged, determined leader, not without reason. She had overheard a few times his reasons for murder, but couldn't agree or disagree that they were justified. Gamora was brought back to reality by Peter's gentle prodding. 

"Are you alright?" He asked, brow furrowing slightly. 

"Yes..." She sighed softly, drawing her hand away from the glass. 

"He should be unable to act in his current state," Nova commented from behind, "He is awake, don't let him fool you, most likely brooding and hanging on every word we exchange." She approached the glass herself, arms folded neatly behind her back, "A few of Xandar's most skilled scientists were examining the stone, and must have caused it to react somehow- spitting out this menace..." 

Looking from Nova Prime to the disabled Accuser, Peter noticed that Ronan's head had raised up to look at them, but surprisingly only had eyes for Nova Prime herself. His lilac eyes, which seared with a heated rage so great Peter could nearly feel it, were no longer decorated with that beastly black war paint. No, he could see every detail of Ronan's light sapphire skin, and for once he felt like the Accuser was real- like a God transformed to man, but no less powerful. Peter tilted his head slightly, running his hand over the stubble of his beard as he stared. Turning his head to look to the right of him, he could see Drax had moved away from group a bit, and was sending his own waves of stink-eye resentment towards the Kree as well. This was going to be rough.

"I know this is a lot to take in at once. I would be honored to have you stay for a few days, until we come to a unified decision," Nova Prime mentioned, eyes unwavering from Ronan's death glare. It was almost as if the two were trying to melt each other, "Rhomann Dey will show you to your housing later if you request it."

"I am Groot," spoke Groot, conveying his appreciation. 

"Thank you very much Nova Prime," Gamora replied, a small smile appearing on her lips. 

Nova smiled in return, "You may come back here if you would like, all of you have free access, and may come and go as you-"

"Speak up where we can all hear you, beast! Display your true, foul nature for all of us!" Drax growled, placing a fist against the glass. 

Ronan's expression did not change, straight faced and dull eyed as if he had done nothing at all. Had he been mouthing heated words at the Destroyer? Well...

"Come back and visit me personally. Alone. So that no one can hear your screams as you beg me for death," came the rumbling voice of the Kree.

"The only one who shall scream for mercy is you! You will pay once and for all-!" 

"Drax-" Gamora put a hand on his shoulder, which was trembling with adrenaline, "Let's go. We are all a bit hungry from the long trip here," she swallowed, taking his hand and pulling him from the glass eventually, and then out of the chamber. 

Peter was the last to leave, with a final glance over his shoulder at the Kree warlord, kneeling there with a smirk on his face that made his own skin crawl as the closing doors forced him to revert his eyes forward again.


	3. The Late Night Visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit short, I got a bit stuck on this chapter. Hopefully I will be able to write some longer chapters soon. 
> 
> Thank you for your feedback! ;u; I appreciate it~

The guest rooms which Nova Prime had given Peter and his crew had been more than enough to be satisfying, however he could not seem to rest. 

It was about one in the morning, but he didn't feel at all tired. Not that his thoughts were plaguing him or- well he was pretty bored. Clasping his Walkman to his belt and sliding his headphones over his ears, Peter slid into the groove of Escape by Rupert Holmes. 

Stepping out into the cool Xandarian night air, he stuck his hands into the pockets of his leather Ravager jacket and mouthed the lyrics as he walked- 

If you like Piña Coladas..

And getting caught in the rain...

Walking past Nova Headquarters, Peter slowed his pace. He felt his back pocket for the outline of the security pass Nova Prime had entrusted to them all at dinner. Maybe he could pay Ronan a visit... It wasn't like he had much else to do. And if Ronan wanted to be a party pooper then he could just leave. Right?

Right.

He totally didn't get lost two or three times on his way down there either. Nope. Just taking his time and enjoying a few more songs. Peter had expert navigation skills!

Finally! 

He ended up at the double doors and greeted the guards, showed them his pass, and they opened the doors.

Ronan was kneeling in the same place, but this time he looked to Peter as he walked in. How long had he been positioned like that? An uncomfortable silence filled the air as Quill clicked the stop button on his Walkman and let his headphones straddle his neck. 

"What do you want, Terran." Ronan looked at him, expression blank, entirely unamused by Peter's surprise visit. 

"Just paying you a friendly visit. Is there something wrong with that?" 

Ronan narrowed his eyes, "There is nothing friendly about you encroaching upon my space." 

Sighing, Peter sat down beside the glass in front of the Kree, "The only unfriendly thing about this is your attitude, dickweed."

Ronan growled, adjusting his knees on the floor slightly, "I have no reason to have petty conversations with the likes of you."

"It's not like you can walk away from me, big guy. You're a little tied up at the moment." 

"I will not waste my attention on you, Star-Lord." 

Star-Lord. Hehehehe. 

"That's rude. I came all this way to talk and you're just gonna ignore me?" 

...

No answer. Ronan had reverted to staring at the floor again.

Peter sighed, "You've got to be kidding me, come on man." 

...still no answer. 

"How about a deal? I let you loose in your cell for a while and in return you answer my questions. How does that sound?" Peter asked, stepping up to the control panel beside the entrance to the cell with a smile. 

Ronan looked at him, waiting.

Peter had his attention, but it appeared he would need some more persuasion. 

As promised, Peter found the correct setting on the panel, and Ronan's bindings released him and retracted. 

Ronan exhaled silently as his arms settled in his lap, two silver bracelets covering his wrists. A flicker of relief showing for the briefest moment in his harsh, lilac eyes. However, he did not move, continuing to eye Peter, "I am ready for your dull inquiries, Terran."

Peter sighed and took a seat in front of the glass, sitting with his legs crossed comfortably as he formulated his list of questions.

"First of all, how are you not dead?" Peter began, furrowing his eyebrows, "Weren't you blown apart by the Infinity Stone?"

"You assume I know?" He crossed his arms, studying Peter from his seat in the center of the cell, "I was inside of it...but I do not know why I was not destroyed."

"What was it like inside?" 

Ronan stayed quiet for a moment, hesitating, "...Cold," he answered, "Dark. It was strange. I could hear others, but could not see them.." 

Peter blinked, playing out that scenario in his head. He watched Ronan's face as he explained it, still a bit bewildered that Ronan had a real, natural face. 

"Come over here," Peter said without thinking, mentally scolding himself afterwards. 

Ronan glared slightly, "I do not take commands from insolent Terrans," he stated. 

Rolling his eyes, Peter then smirked, "Well you promised to answer my questions, so maybe I should restate it since you're so picky," he cleared his throat, "Ronan, will you come over here?" 

"No."

"Oh come on! Why the hell not?" 

"Why should I?" 

"Because I asked nicely." 

Ronan made a "pfft" sound and looked away. 

"Please?" 

"....."

"Okay, I just want to see your face. Come on, what do I have to do, sing for you?" 

Ronan made a disgusted face and decided to get up and make his way over. Apparently singing was a no go. 

He still walked with that same noble prowess, haughty as ever, even in captivity.

Peter found himself standing again as Ronan made his way over, eventually all that was left between them was the thick, impenetrable glass. Peter had to tilt his head up to meet Ronan's bright, lilac eyes. Even without the Infinity Stone's power surging through his veins, they were quite bright, and no less intimidating. He was bald, as he could tell from far away. It suited him as the feared position he was entitled to. His features were seemingly soft- a lot softer than he had ever imagined. Combined with that appealing shade of blue, Ronan was more than stunning or beautiful. Peter only realized he had been staring when Ronan began to smile. Peter's stare didn't falter, only shift to Ronan's black teeth. He had seen that same sadistic smile before on that fateful day- but this one was slightly different, a little more mischievous than murderous. 

"Is it not considered rude to stare in your culture?" He added with that grin. 

Peter opened his mouth then closed it and swallowed, knowing he had been caught red handed. Shit. Shit. No. He wasn't admiring the genocidal Kree warlord. He prayed Ronan hadn't caught on that well. 

Peter suddenly felt the warmth of embarrassment rising in his normally confident cheeks, and decided it was time to go to bed.

He turned without a word and hurried out of the chamber as soon as the doors cranked open far enough for him to slip through, leaving Ronan behind to frolic in his cell as he wished.


	4. I Can Explain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh GOD, Peter, why????

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayy! I think this is my longest chapter so far. Happy reading! Hope you enjoy as much as I did ;u;

"I believe I deserve an explanation," began Nova Prime, arms crossed and lips pressed tight where she stood beside Ronan's holding cell, "before I check the security footage myself."

Peter felt sweat beading at the back of his neck. Nova had called the crew down to Ronan's cell, and he knew why. She was wondering why Ronan wasn't locked up securely inside of his chamber. He knew nothing about that! 

He swallowed hard, glancing over to Ronan, who was still roaming free inside his cell. He hadn't attempted to break out, then? That was good for Peter. He was standing in the center of the cell, with a smug look on his face. 

He was looking right at Peter. 

Which made Gamora look at Peter. 

Peter could see her face in his peripheral vision. He hoped she didn't notice him noticing how she was noticing how nervous he was. 

"So why would we be the culprits, exactly?" Rocket mused, growling slightly. 

Nova Prime ignored him, "So no answer then?"

"We would not be so foolish as to release a demon from his confinement," Drax voiced, glaring at the Kree. 

Ronan was suddenly very close to the glass again, just as he had been the night before. He lifted a hand, tapping one finger against it slowly, looking right at Peter.

"It was me," Peter fessed suddenly. 

Gamora rubbed her temples as Drax shot him the same look of mixed anger and disappointment Nova did. 

Drax unconsciously began clenching and unclenching his fists as his eyes moved between the Kree in the holding chamber, and his trusted companion,"Why exactly did you do this, Quill?"

"I was just trying to get information," he sighed, stuffing his hands in his maroon Ravager jacket, "Like how the hell he survived," he muttered, looking at Drax. He would be lying if he said he didn't see a flicker of hurt in his tattooed companion's eyes. 

Nova Prime furrowed her brows and let out a exasperated sigh, "So reckless, Quill," she looked down. 

Rocket rolled his eyes and rubbed his face with a quiet groan. 

An apology edged towards Peter's lips, but he was cut off by Nova.

"I suppose proper...disciplinary measures are in order," she announced, "Since you could have quite possibly threatened our safety, you can stand guard tonight, Peter Quill. That will give you plenty of time to think about what you have done and what we are going to do about Ronan." 

Ronan had mosied back to the middle of his cell, and Peter could see his lilac eyes glittering, but he couldn't read his emotion. 

Why was this guy so damn hard to understand? 

"Will do, Nova Prime," Peter sighed, mentally preparing for the night ahead. 

\------------------

After a while of conversing with Nova Prime in private, he convinced her to leave Ronan unchained, able to wander in his cell. Only so that he could get more information...

Yeah, information! 

Like, why did this Thanos guy want the Infinity stone...and...

Hmmm....

Maybe, Peter decided, he needed to change up his tactics. If he tried to get Ronan to open up, maybe he could get him to stop trying to destroy the Xandarians, and they could have a REAL peace treaty. After all, he had been on the sideline of this whole thing, so he didn't really understand all the motives. 

Ronan was solid, it would be hard to soften him up...if it was even possible. 

Quill sighed and rubbed his face, sitting on the edge of a bench as Xandar's sky changed colors with the setting of the sun. 

"What's on your mind, Peter?" Gamora asked, suddenly in the seat beside him.   
She was quiet as hell when she wanted to be, Peter thought as he tried to steady his heartbeat again. Way to give a man a heart attack. 

"Just...this whole mess. It's pretty complicated." 

"It is," she replied, then stayed quiet, eyes fixed on the horizon and the buildings which blocked the sun. 

After a few moments she inquired a second time, "Are you going to try to talk to Ronan?" 

Peter almost snorted, and smiled at her, "You know me."

She smiled lightly, looking back at him with her dark, mysterious eyes. 

"Do you...have any advice?" Peter asked. 

"Advice?" 

"I mean, you lived with him for a long time, surely you know something about him. Something that I could use to...open him up." 

Gamora blinked hesitantly, watching Peter as she slowly furrowed her eyebrows at him with worry, "It's not that easy..." 

"Of course not, but-" 

"Ronan never got close with Nebula or I, however...I have overheard things...seen things..." 

"What kind of things?" 

"Peter," Gamora began, unsure if she should continue, "I don't think it would be wise to try to bond with him-" 

"I have to try something, Gamora. You changed, so I'm sure he could too..." 

Gamora looked down, folding her hands in her lap, "I just don't want you to get hurt." 

"I promise I'll be careful," he smiled confidently, "but you have to help me."

A moment of silence passed between them before Gamora spoke up.

"Back when I lived on the Dark Aster with Ronan and Nebula, there was not very much to do. We trained for hours every day. There were no such things as casual conversation, or friendliness. It was a miracle that Nebula and I ever got a chance to speak with one another outside of...work, let alone Ronan himself," she looked at Peter, her eyes appearing to reflect the memories which only she could see. 

"I have spoken with him before privately, however he is very reluctant to give up any morsel of personal information without good reason. I do not recall anything he has told me that would help you..." 

Peter frowned slightly, and opened his mouth, but Gamora continued. 

"The Kree are very noble, and harder than any metal you could think of. Life on his planet is very different than either of ours," Gamora smiled, thoughtfully, "However... You're talented Quill. I don't think your cause is completely hopeless. You changed my mind, Rocket's- and Drax's." 

Peter smiled at her, confidence burning in his chest, "Thank you, Gamora," he said, putting his hand on her arm. 

"...I'll give you a twelve percent chance of winning him over."

"Hey! what is that supposed to mean?!"

\-------------------

After he had escorted Gamora back to the building where the Guardians were currently taking residency, Quill did not join her inside. He had a job assigned by Nova Prime to attend to. He went on along the streets, snaking around many buildings to Nova Headquarters.

Soon Quill found himself back at those familiar, grinding double doors. There were no guards tonight, since he had been assigned that duty. He crossed through to see Ronan for the second time that day. 

It was going to be a long night. 

Ronan was sitting on the far side of the cell with his back to the wall, arm propped up over one bent knee, the other leg stretched out across the floor.

"What's going on, Ronan my man?" Quill smiled as he made his way over to Ronan and sat down. 

Ronan didn't care to look at him, and just continued staring at whatever... He was staring at. He looked zoned out. Lost in thought. 

"You alive? Fishy fishy?" Peter asked, poking the glass with his index finger as Ronan finally looked over at him with that typical, 'if there was no glass here you'd be dead,' face. 

"There we go," Peter smirked, "Aren't you bored yet? I sure am." 

Ronan huffed, "Then why don't you leave?" 

"Can't, you heard the boss." 

"She is no leader to me." 

Peter rolled his eyes, "Oh well, of course. Anyway, I'll be here all night with you buddy. So, let's start!" 

"Start what." 

"Bonding, bro! It's what bros do!" Peter said, leaning against the glass and stretching out comfortably, watching as Ronan's face turned disgusted again. 

"I will take no part in your 'bonding' session," he announced. 

"What if I set you free?" 

Ronan didn't react much, he shook his head, snorting in what seemed like some form of amusement. 

"I'm fully serious, mind you. I have the power to do so. Nova isn't here. It's just me and you, blue guy." 

Peter allowed a few minutes of silence to pass before Ronan answered. 

"State your requirements, filth." 

"First of all, you should refer to me as Star-Lord. Or Peter. Preferably Star-Lord." 

"Fine. Peter." 

Quill sighed, "You must answer me honestly and respectfully. However, if you are so interested then I will answer your questions as well. Just a clean, get to know a brother conversation. Agreed?" 

"...Agreed." 

Peter had to take a breath to keep himself from taking a victory lap- or dance for that matter. 

"Alright," Peter grinned, "Since you were so kind, you can ask the first question." 

"What are your true intentions, Peter Quill." 

Peter blinked a moment, "What?" 

"You cannot fool me. What are you trying to get out of me by extending a false hand?" 

"Nothing, honestly!" 

Ronan glared at him, silently, a dim fire burning in his lilac orbsresponded. 

"Okay, um- my turn," Peter responded, "Can you...tell me a little about what Hala is like?" 

Ronan's eyes shifted slightly, a wave of surprise washing over him. He truly had not expected Peter would try to be serious. 

He's not being serious, Ronan reminded himself, this is just a game. 

Ronan crossed his arms, adjusting himself so that both of his legs lay on the floor, sitting up straight. 

"Hala is the capital to my people, the Kree, as you know," he began, "it is considerably large and bustling, just like Xandar. Except better." 

Peter smiled, "I bet," he commented, "What was it like growing up there?" 

Ronan hesitated. He did not like where this was going. However, he made an agreement with the Terran, and his agreements, even small ones, were not taken lightly. He would have to be as vague as possible. 

"My people are very...noble. Extremely independent. We keep to ourselves, just as we help ourselves. At a very young age, I was entrusted to a future title of Supreme Accuser because of my lineage. I was not allowed to fail. I could not disappoint my father, or dishonor my mother." 

Peter's eyebrows raised as he tried to imagine a little Ronan, carrying such weights so soon in his life, "So, you didn't really have a childhood?" 

"What?" 

"I mean, you took on adult tasks at a young age." 

"Of course. There is no such thing as a certain task deemed strictly suitable for a child on Hala." 

Peter was slightly taken aback, unsure where the extent of that statement lay. Peter had to learn adult things as a child as well, but those were probably different in their own way compared to Ronan. 

"What of your Terra, then?" 

"Oh, I don't have but few memories of my home. My mother...died when I was a boy, and Yondu abducted me right after. He taught me how to survive in the galaxy, I'll give him that."

Ronan hummed, taking in what Peter had to say, "And your father?" 

"Oh, well. Actually, I have no clue who my father is." 

Ronan stayed silent, parted his lips momentarily, but said nothing. He did, however, look at Peter, an unreadable expression in his eyes. 

Peter suddenly felt uncomfortable under Ronan's strange gaze, and he shifted and looked down for a moment.

He heard Ronan chuckle. 

It was deep, with a tinge of animosity, from within his thick chest. 

It lasted less than a second, but it was still enough to surprise Peter. 

"Why won't you meet my eyes?" 

"Excuse me?" Peter looked at him, "I have no trouble looking at you, ugly." 

"What's with the tone, Star-Lord? Look who's being rude now."

Damn. 

Peter sighed, rolling his eyes a bit. 

Silence. 

About five minutes of silence passed. 

Neither man moved. 

Ronan considered going to sleep, but as soon as he went to shut his eyes he heard it. 

"Stop that." 

"Stop what?" 

"You know exactly-" 

"OOOOHHHHH CHIIIILD THINGS ARE GONNA GET EASIERR!" 

"NO. SINGING!" Ronan got up and removed himself from the unwanted situation.

"Oh come on, man! Since when was the last time you sang? Why don't you people dance? Am I the only guy in the universe who does either?" Peter put his hands up questioningly, wondering in the back of his mind if he could be Kevin Bacon reincarnated. 

"I do not want to be involved in your silly game," Ronan growled, not bothering to look at him when he responded. 

"Game?" Peter frowned a bit, "Have you ever had fun, Ronan? I doubt you've even played a game before. Don't you want to feel happy for once? Have you EVER felt happy?" 

Silence, again. 

Had Peter prodded to much? 

Ronan seriously contemplated Peter's question for a moment, then shook his head, "I do not need happiness..." 

"Yes you do," Peter growled, heading over to another side of the cell so that he could look at Ronan again, "Everyone does." 

Ronan lifted his head and looked at Peter, stepping over to face him towards the glass, "I am not allowed such luxuries, Peter Quill. Your life and mine will never be similar. Happiness is a burden I do not carry." 

Peter's lips parted as he let out a deep, quiet exhale. Happiness was a burden. 

"Why won't you try?" 

"I will not allow myself to be weak." 

"Happiness isn't weakness. I'm sure plenty of Kree feel happiness." 

"They do..." Ronan's face seemed less angry, more blank thank anything, "But I cannot. As Supreme Accuser, I measure justice. I cannot allow petty feelings to create a rift in my choices. There can be no bias in a decisions regarding the law. That is why I am able to uphold such a position."

Peter shook his head, and rubbed his forehead. 

Ronan cut himself off from other feelings he didn't need so that he could focus on the betterment of his people. At least he cared, to an extent. 

"I'm determined to keep my end of the deal," Peter started, walking over to the control panel, "but, I want to show you something." 

"Show me what, Terran? Some foolish dance? I am not interested." 

"No, no," he explained, tapping through a few slides on the control panel, "I am going to show you what it's like to be genuinely happy." 

Ronan let out that same huffy, short chuckle again in disbelief, "How, do you believe, are you going to do that?" 

"By keeping my word," Star-Lord reminded him, as the door to his chamber suddenly groaned and unlatched, sliding open. 

Ronan blinked at the exit, but made no sudden moves. 

This Terran. 

So strange. 

Was he really this foolish? 

"Come on then, big guy, what are you waiting for?" Peter called, arms crossed, standing with a smug face at the exit. 

Ronan blinked, then made his way over to the exit, slowly stepping out and standing in front of Quill. As soon as his entire body was outside of the cell, his two silver cuffs activated, and created two electric handcuffs, instantly pulling his wrists together. Ronan growled in response, obviously displeased. 

Peter blinked, "Oh," he said, "I thought those were just for-" he paused, "Xandarians are pretty thorough." 

Ronan rolled his eyes in response, "Especially when it comes to Terrans releasing dangerous prisoners without permission." 

"True," Peter smiled, "Nova is gonna be pissseeeedddd! But if my plan works, I think she'll give me a break." 

'Plan,' Ronan recited in his mind. He knew Peter was hiding something. No one attempts to befriend someone without a prerogative. 

"Come on then, follow me, and stay quiet, okay? No tricky business either. I know you still don't trust me, so I'm going to have to prove myself to you." 

Ronan stayed quiet as Peter opened the double doors, listening to him talk. He couldn't believe that Quill was actually doing this. Why was he doing this? What was he doing? 

"You're going to have to prove yourself to me, too, you know," Peter continued, making sure the doors closed behind him, then began to lead Ronan down the corridor, walking ahead of him, "I know we had some misunderstandings, and you want to kill everyone on Xandar, but...let's not go into that right now. I'm going to prove to you that relaxing and having fun is great, and you're going to owe me. I'm calling it right now, it's a bet." 

Silence. 

"Hey, now I let you out, remember? Don't be grumpy-" Peter stopped, and turned around to find no one. 

He was alone, Ronan was gone. 

Adrenaline hit him as soon as he took the first step back the way he'd just came, and Peter was running like hell.


	5. Fresh Air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus Christ guys I am so sorry I am a lazy poot and I have school and ejkabsjdjsbsbd
> 
> Please enjoy this terrible short chapter fml haha

Ronan stopped at the next corner and listened quietly for any guards patrolling the hall. When he heard nothing, he stepped out and hurried up and took his place on the elevator, having partially memorized the small route which Nova guards had tugged him around to occasionally take care of his personal needs. However, he had been able to make the rest of the route to the surface out easily, and now the doors opened up to the main lobby of Xandar’s head quarters. 

He stood silently, wondering how far behind Peter was, and cursing the contraption which still bound his wrists together. He walked out, eyes flicking immediately to the right where the main desk was, a Xandar official sitting behind it. She took one look at him, and slammed her hand down on the call button in panic. Well, Ronan could simply not allow this.

He closed the space between them in a mere few lengths and closed his fists together for better leverage, proceeding to whack her over the head twice with his cuffs, to be sure that she was to stay unconscious. After she fell, unmoving to the floor, he allowed a satisfied smirk as he listened to the person on the other side of the receiver answer with increasingly worried echos of ‘hello?’s before Ronan ended the call. He must have hit her a little harder than anticipated (not that he cared), because the woman's blood was on his cuff; the smell overwhelmed his senses. It had truly been a while...

Ronan heard the click of the far elevator opening and quickly ducked into a squat behind the desk, listening to the exhausted breaths of what sounded to him like...Peter. He took a quick peek over the side of the desk just in time too see Peter’s back heading out the door. Was he not going to inform Xandar of his escape? A quick glance at the clock told him it was 3:32 in the morning. The Xandarians weren't complete fools, he reminded himself, he probably only had a few minutes before they checked over the cameras and found that he and Peter were gone. 

He and Peter…

Peter.

He had to move quickly, however he hadn't planned to escape like this. Ronan counted to fifteen, allowing Peter time to get ahead, before he rose and headed out of the building, with an idea that just might work.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Peter couldn't remember the trip from the head quarters to Gamora, but it didn't matter. 

“I fucked up- we- I don't know what to do-” 

“I can't BELIEVE you Peter!” She groaned, grabbing his jacket lapels and shaking him, “Don't you understand what you’ve done to Xandar?!” 

“Yes, Gamora, I do!” He sighed roughly, meeting her panicked gaze, “Where would he go? He’s- I mean he’s still cuffed, he can't…” 

Gamora rubbed her temples, swallowing as she paced back and forth, “We have got to find-” 

Suddenly, sirens rang out, signaling a state of emergency. 

“Shit,” Gamora and Peter breathed in unison. 

Simultaneously, Rocket slid his head through the door of their room as soon as it opened, “Guys, we gotta GO! COME ON!" 

Peter, suddenly confused, followed Rocket into the hall, “What-?” He called as he watched Drax’s, Rocket’s, and Groot’s backs as they left him and Gamora in the dust. One quick glance at Gamora and they were both following their furry friend’s lead. 

Soon they were at the Milano, filing inside as Rocket threw down a long, metal tube on the table and then taking the wheel of the ship without warning. 

“Rocket, what the hell-?” Peter was cut off as the ship took off, up into the air towards the stars once again. 

Only since they had taken off without permission while Xandar was going on lockdown, they were followed by a flurry of projectiles in their wake. Luckily, Rocket was able to manage not scraping up the Milano too much. 

Once everyone could breath and stand without the assistance of a wall or chair to clutch, Peter sat down beside Rocket with a disoriented expression, not knowing where to begin. 

Rocket glanced at Peter as he put the ship on autopilot, unbuckling himself from the seat. He looked at Peter again, and sighed, “Okay, they had some pretty sweet blueprints so I may or may not have helped myself.” 

Peter just stared for a moment, and then let out a short laugh, rubbing his face, “Oh yeah? Well,” he stood, hands on his hips, “I may or may not have let Ronan loose on Xandar.” 

...

The silence was deafening.

“You WHAT?” Rocket's expression was double that of what Peter’s had been previously, completely frozen to his seat. 

As was Drax, except he could see pain on his face as well, out of the corner of his eye. As if someone had just, literally, stabbed him in the back. 

“...I am Groot?” 

“I...don't know myself Groot,” Peter sighed, running another hand down his face. They would catch Ronan. Right. And Peter would probably never be allowed on Xandar again. EVER. Groot was right, what was he thinking? Damn. 

“Let’s just...take a break, okay? I think we all need to cool down…” Gamora commented quietly, and Drax was already halfway to his room. 

Quill felt terrible. 

Nauseous. 

He couldn't even look up from the floor as he made his way to his room. 

Sure, he had done shitty stuff in the past, but he had never felt so bad about something until now. 

He shook his head and pulled his jacket off as his bedroom door closed behind him, then carelessly stuffing the jacket onto a hanger and hanging it up sloppily. He was not in the mood to be concise right now. Peter shut the closet door and turned- 

To see his own gun in his face, and a set of violet, burning eyes behind them.

“...Ronan-” Peter couldn't believe his eyes, or get himself to move, not because there was a gun on his nose, but, Ronan- how had he-? 

“Silence,” Ronan growled as the gun fired up, his blue index finger teasing the trigger lightly. His hands were still bound by those cuffs, Peter noted, maybe he was more capable than he had thought. 

“You will inform no one of my presence aboard this ship,” Ronan commanded, brow furrowing, “and in turn I will not kill you.” 

“Sounds like a-” 

“Then,” Ronan snarled, pressing the gun against Peter’s cheek, “You will remove these vile cuffs.” 

“...I don't-” 

“The card.” 

Peter blinked, and nodded slowly, he then turned around, and opened his closet once again, shuffling through both pockets of his jacket until he pulled out the pass which Nova had given him, and held it up. 

“Good,” Ronan smirked, “Now,” his eyes flickered down to the cuffs, and Peter pressed it into a tiny slot on the side, resulting in their deactivation, so that Ronan could now move his hands freely. 

Peter swallowed, silently watching as Ronan lowered his guard only slightly, now that he had full range of motion. He tested it, and moved one of his wrists in a circle, the other still holding the gun up to Peter’s face. 

This might be his only chance.

“How about we put that down now?” Peter nodded to the gun, raising his hands a bit, dropping the card to the floor, “Fair enough? I let you escape, and I just uncuffed you…” 

Ronan narrowed his eyes at Peter, hesitating in silence, that typical, unreadable look in his eyes. The Kree was unbelievably tough to read.

Finally the warlord lowered the gun to his side with a faint whirr as it powered down. 

Holy shit. Did Peter do that? 

Peter swallowed, mouth going dry from the suspense. He licked his lips slightly, watching Ronan. What was he supposed to do now? He was left sharing the awkward silence with Ronan, staring right back into his brilliant lilac eyes. 

“You’re gonna...stay in here- in my room, alright? Don’t come out. Otherwise they’ll see you...and throw a fit... “ Peter finally announced, nodding at Ronan for confirmation. 

Ronan rolled his eyes in response, “I will not hesitate to kill them.”

Them? What about me? Peter’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“...I’ll be back.” Quill turned his back on Ronan, and headed back down the hallway once again, but this time in a partial daze.

He couldn't explain this to Gamora, let alone himself right now.


	6. Unwelcome Guest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOL, LOOK WHO'S TRASH. ME~
> 
> Sorry guys, *insert excuses here* 
> 
> But no, I regret leaving this for so long. *sigh* I went through a long, disgusting writer's block, and this is what I ended up with. 
> 
> The shortest chapter on the face of Earth. 
> 
> Feel free to yell your disappointment at me in the comments. 
> 
> I have an idea of where this will be going. 
> 
> Bare bear with me.

The walk to the kitchen evaporated in Peter’s mind as he simply went through the motions of obtaining food. He left the fridge door standing wide open as usual, slapping some sort of alien jelly substance on some sort of alien bread. 

“You alright?” Gamora asked, taking a seat on a grounded barstool across from Peter at the high kitchen island. She knew what his answer would be, but she asked anyway. 

Peter let out a heavy breath as he absent mindedly made a second sandwich, not necessarily expecting Gamora to ask him why. I mean, big muscular dude like Peter’s gotta eat, right? Gotta grow big and strong. He snorted a bit at the thought, “I’m fine. Just fine.” 

He stacked the sandwiches on top of each other on a single plate, feeling Gamora’s deep eyes on him all the while. Eventually, he grew a bit tired of it, and retraced his steps back to his bedroom. Peter stood in front of the door, looking at his boots as the door slid open, then walked in, listening to it shut behind him, “I brought-” 

Peter felt his grip on the plate giving way as he stood there, and he hand to bring up his other hand to keep from dropping it on his floor and making a mess-

Or at least add to the mess his brain was still wracking to understand. 

Ronan had made himself comfortable, clearly, sitting on Peter’s bed buck ass naked with his clothing folded and sitting on his lap. On top of that, he had his Walkman. 

His. Walkman. 

Listening. To HIS. TUNES. 

And what bothered Peter the most about this situation, was that he wasn't as angry as he would have liked to be. I mean hell, there was a finely sculpted God sitting on his bed- and he wondered what song Ronan was listening to- because all Peter’s brain could do was belt out “Come and Get Your Love” by Redbone.

“I require a fresh attire and bath,” Ronan said, putting the tape player and headphones on the nightstand as if trying to play off the fact that he had been listening to Peter’s music, let alone touching the wretched player. 

“Wh-” Peter cleared his throat, “Yeah,” he responded, putting the sandwiches down on the end of the bed then moving to the closet to get Ronan some new clothing. Dude seemed to like black, so Peter pulled some snug black pants for him, and looked for a shirt. He had another navy one, but blue on blue wouldn't be too flattering- 

Oh come on, Peter. 

He tugged a grey shirt out and turned to Ronan, just in time to watch him lap some alien jelly off his finger, then take another bite of his sandwich. 

Peter was convinced. 

This guy would be the ultimate death of him.

He sighed, swallowing the heat he felt creeping up his neck as he headed into the bathroom to lay down Ronan’s adopted clothing and turn to start the hot bath- 

Peter slapped himself on the head. This guy was totally taking advantage of him- but there wasn't much he could do under the circumstances given. I mean, he had been able to stay in his room right? Common courtesy, and yadda yadda- 

The tub was half filled when Ronan decided to come stand at the door with his neat little stack of dirty clothes covering his- 

Peter sighed, staring at the water filling the tub at an excruciatingly slow speed. After what seemed like forever, Peter escorted himself from the bathroom, glancing over his shoulder. 

And there it was. 

The most perfect ass in the universe. 

(100 points if you read that in a Morgan Freeman Voice.)

Peter flopped down onto his cushy bed, screaming into his pillow, squeezing his eyes closed. But the round, pert, blue ass was properly burned into his eyelids. 

This. 

Would be the longest trip. 

Of his life. 

“Peter! We’ll be landing in ten minutes!” Came Rocket’s voice from the other side of his door.

Or not. 

“Alright!” He yelled back, lifting his head off the pillow, then slapping it back down into the fluff. 

How the hell was he supposed to keep Ronan from getting found out, but- 

He couldn't just leave him on the ship. Peter knew for a fact Ronan would take it without a second thought. 

He might just have to confess...

Or...


	7. This fic is up for adoption! (Not a new chapter, sorry!)

Okay, so I have come to terms with the fact that this thing is never gonna get finished fml;; sorry guys

BUT, I would love to see it finished, so if someone wanted to adopt this fic and make a part two and start posting for it, send me a message and I'll get back to you. I'd be glad to tell you what I had in mind (it wasn't much-) and you can go on your own little merry way once I give you the okay. :)

Thank you again for all of your support and love! Couldn't have done this with out all of you guys' encouragement. ;u; 

See you on the flip side~ (insert swaggy emoji)


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